Hardcore Fangirls Are Hard To Deal With
by mjp03
Summary: Hell hath no fury like a woman's wrath. What happens when two narcissists clash? Apparently, war. When man-eater Takahata Shiori latches herself onto Atobe Keigo with the Takahata Enterprises in toll, Atobe does everything in his power to resist, but can he? AtobeOC
1. Bears are Terrifying

A/N: When you read this, you will go like: "Are you insane? Starting ANOTHER story?" Yes, I am indeed. You might recognize most of the characters, but they are completely different. This was previously titled Broken Genius, but apart from the characters' names, this has no connection at all to Broken Genius. The plot is completely different, and don't even try to put two to two together and think you've got anything. I bet you fifty thousand cents I will shock your pants off. This is by far the most hilarious story I have ever written.

* * *

"One thousand and fifty-two." Atobe announced triumphantly. The regulars grumbled, seeing where this was going to go. He ran a hand through his hair sexily. "The number of members in the Atobe Keigo Club this year. Ore-sama's charm is undeniable, ahn, Yuushi?"

"Oh please, Keigo." Oshitari raised an eyebrow. "It's _seven_ in the morning. Take your boisterous boasting elsewhere, will you? No one needs to hear this so early in the morning."

Any normal person would be ashamed, at the mercy of Oshitari Yuushi's sharp tongue, or flustered, in the very least. Atobe was someone from another world.

Atobe smirked his signature smirk, sending groans from the regulars and screams from the fangirls across the tennis courts once again. "Oshitari, wither under ore-sama's glorious shine! Buckle the way thy knees would in ore-sama's presence! Ore-sama shall not be discouraged by your remarks of jealousy, commoners. For ore-sama is absolute!"

Shishido rolled his eyes, adjusting his cap. "You 'buckle the way our knees would', Atobe? Those remarks were meant to be insulting instead of discouraging, by the way, Your Highness."

Mukahi giggled, "Good one, Ryou!"

Atobe snapped his fingers. "It's the start of the new academic year! No nonsense from any of you rabbles!"

"Come to think of it, did you check which class you're assigned in this year, Atobe?" Oshitari asked casually.

"Ha? Does ore-sama look like the sort of person who would bother to check something as trivial as that?" Atobe announced as he flipped his hair. Fangirls wailed in delight. With a magnificent jab of his thumb, he pointed at one of the many fangirls in the spectators stand. "Oi! You! What class is ore-sama in, girl?"

The girl went completely red, and stuttered, "A-Atobe-sama, you're in 3-A, the same as I am!"

Satisfied, Atobe turned to face Oshitari, expression victorious. Oshitari rolled his eyes.

"What a shameless flirt."

* * *

Within the humungous premises of Hyotei Gakuen, there is one place that is an extremely popular confession site. It is the patch of grass behind the tennis club locker room, with a tall oak tree providing shade to whoever is being confessed to.

Atobe is proud to admit that he is the most frequent visitor to that particular spot, invited by numerous fangirls (and the occasional fanboy, but that's another story) to receive declarations of undying love to him, of which he all rejected without question. He was a huge advocate of the religion 'the king belongs to everyone'. Why would he settle down with one girl, when he had millions following him around already?

Today he was invited by another girl to that spot, undoubtedly to reject yet another confession of romantic feelings.

The girl, who was, coincidentally, the same girl Atobe had pointed out from the crowd this morning. She shuffled her feet nervously, and looked down blushing. "A-Atobe-sama, you may not know me, but I have been watching you since our freshman year. I have admired you for a long time, Atobe-sama." She tracked her fingers through her hair, desperately trying to smooth it down. Atobe could see that she was wearing makeup. "And today, I-I would like to tell you that...I have been your fan for a long time now! I like you really much, Atobe-sama! Please go out with me!"

Atobe looked at the girl with a bit of distaste. He had received confessions enough to last a lifetime, not to brag. This one was sort of boring, in its own aspect.

"I'm sorry, but ore-sama is not interested. Why would you try to acquire ore-sama, when ore-sama has already stated that the king should belong to everyone? Ore-sama is everyone's! There shall be none who will selfishly snatch away the great ore-sama!" And he whirled around and left. It was the same practice every day.

Really, there weren't a lot of them that had managed to impress him at all. Ah, Atobe suddenly recalled, but there was one girl that nearly threw him off his feet last year.

He strolled back towards the school building, taking the shorter route back, which involved venturing into the small forest that separated the main building and the recreational areas. The forest always appeased his mind, and freshened up his mood. There was a narrow man-made path that lead him towards the exit.

There was a shadow among the tall trees and bushes, cleverly camouflaged in the shades. Atobe squinted, but couldn't make out the figure. He decided that it wouldn't be the best decision to approach the thing. Without his line of bodyguards next to him, Atobe did not feel confident in his chances of winning a battle against some sort of violent wild animal on his own. And there had been rumors floating around lately that there were bears lurking around in the forest too...

Hastening his footsteps, he drew out his phone and dialed '119', and kept his finger just above the call button. Better safe than sorry. He spotted the light at the end of the forest, and hurried. Just as he was about to reach it, the shadow sprang into action, flying towards Atobe.

He backtracked and tried to run back the way he had come, back to the tennis courts. _Ah, ore-sama knew the 'light at the end of the tunnel' was a bad omen..._ he thought wryly as he sprinted. Oh, but the figure was fast. With a yell, the shadow pounced on Atobe.

Atobe squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face with his hands. The thing straddled his hips with its legs, its fur tickling his neck. It brought his mouth next to his ear (Did bears have a thing for human ears?), and breathed into it.

"A-to-be-sa-ma. I love you." Atobe's eyes flew open, and groaned at what he saw. The figure was no 'bear'. It was a damn crazy fangirl, who had pestered him all throughout last year.

It was the fangirl that had managed to impress and annoy Atobe with her repeated confessions. This girl, this abysmal girl, was the girl who had broken the record for confessing to the same person in a week most times. At the prime of her time, she had once made forty-two confessions in one week. Six declarations of love per day. There was just so much Atobe could take. And every time being something unthinkable and scandalous. Like pretending to be a 'bear' and scaring the shit out of the supposed love of her life.

This girl was Takahata Shiori. And it was a name Atobe would never forget, even when he is sent into his coffin. Oh, he would not.

"Damn you, Takahata. Had ore-sama not warned you enough times already last year?" Atobe kicked the girl off his lap, but she dodged it gracefully, and propped herself on her arm, lying indecently on the pure forest floor. She had a very nice body line, one had to admit, and left much to be desired. Her slightly wavy chocolate hair flew in the wind like a cape, and her dark brown eyes that looked at Atobe mischievously must have devoured the hearts of many men.

"Ke-i-go-"

"Need ore-sama repeat his command? You do not call your king by his first name. If you must, say 'Keigo Clarion-Pierre Gabriel Francis Atobe', for that is ore-sama's full name in English, Takahata."

Shiori pouted. "You meanie, Atobe-sama. Just go out with me already."

"Ore-sama knew you were insane, but ore-sama didn't know you were mentally challenged. Which part of 'not interested' do you not understand, commoner?"

She stuck her lip out, and stuffed her cheeks ridiculously. "Eh? I've never been rejected by a male before, you see." Shiori leaned closer, drawing in a breath seductively. "And I don't want anyone to be an exception." Normally, any male creature would have been finished off in ten seconds, but Atobe prided himself in being resistant towards the advances of the female race.

Atobe got up, brushing her off without a second look. "When you become someone ore-sama is interested in, ore-sama will approach you on ore-sama's own account and court you, understand, woman?"

Shiori wailed. "Ehhhh? Atobe-sama!"

* * *

Hyotei Gakuen was a prestigious school; even its classrooms were spectacular. Crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, desks made out of maple wood, chairs lined with the finest leather, the floor coated with velvet.

A hand slapped carelessly onto one of those maple wood desks, and yanked the a leather chair casually over the velvet floor. "Ahn, ore-sama is thirsty." The owner of that hand complained. Immediately, a cup of tea was called for. (This is Hyotei. Nobody drinks water.)

Oshitari rolled his eyes. He noticed that he did that a lot when he was with Atobe. "Oh, my king. Why are you having a bad day, Your Highness?"

Atobe must have been feeling a bit poetic, for he answered: "Hell hath no fury like a woman's wrath." Which could mean everything and nothing in particular.

Oshitari nodded in mock sympathy. "Thy humble servant understands. Women, right? Who needs them? Is it Takahata Shiori again?"

At the acute stiffening of Atobe's muscles, Oshitari knew he had hit the spot. Atobe growled. "You would not believe that woman..."

Oshitari rolled his eyes again, not for the first time today nor the last. "Women, right? Who needs them?"

* * *

Atobe most definitely haven't reached the light at the end of the tunnel yet, though. After school, he was subjected to a fancy confession of love when he went to the courts for practice. Which involved the confessing party releasing a banner with Atobe's pretty face on it and cloaking the courts with it. (Yes, the banner was large enough to do that. Rich people, right? Welcome to Hyotei.) It took the team half an hour to clean up all the confetti buried under the banner as well. (Atobe would never admit that he secretly liked the banner.)

The coach was thoroughly scandalized. He seemed awfully in shock for the rest of the day, probably from seeing Atobe's tear mole enlarged, becoming approximately the size of a normal human's head.

Atobe was tossed varied reactions, most of them coming from the regulars. Shishido shook his head and sighed, "If you're a true king, you would be able to control your followers, wouldn't you?"

Ootori apologized ten times over for Shishido.

Mukahi took one look at Atobe's tear mole, and rolled on the floor with uncontrollable laughter.

Even Akutagawa widened his eyes at the banner which was the size of ten tennis courts.

Oshitari said this: "Aren't you glad that Your Highness is receiving such a positive image?"

Hiyoshi looked like he wanted to retract his statement of Gekokujou-ing Atobe-buchou as he stared at the crazy banner.

Kabaji did not utter a sound as he cleaned up the courts, but Atobe suspected that he was planning to smuggle that banner home. For what reasons, Atobe did not know.

Unfortunately, the culprit was still lurking around the courts. When Atobe was packing up to leave, one of his rackets was missing. As he was finding it, he spotted a trail of scattered tennis balls, leading to a dark corner of the locker room. When he reached the end of the trail, he wanted to die.

There lay a racket - _his_ racket, in fact - with the frame bent ridiculously into a heart. The logos on the racket frame had stickers of 'LOVE' plastered over them. The grip tape was replaced by a different kind, which lined up to form a portrait of Takahata Shiori smiling seductively.

Ah, women's intuition is so accurate when it comes to the opposite sex's preferences. Where was the male support when you needed it?

Picking up the despicable object, he tried to throw it out in the trash, but not before Mukahi caught him red-handed. Mukahi tried to stifle his laughter by sticking his fist into his mouth, but nearly ended up suffocating himself by shoving the fist too far in. He grabbed the heart-shaped racket without a moment of hesitation, and escaped with it, no doubt to display it to the world.

Atobe swore to all gods and goddesses in existence to see to that woman's bloody demise. If he had time, he would murder Mukahi as well. Atobe also apologized to all the mighty rulers in the world for tainting the title of 'King'.

* * *

According to the normal laws of stereotype, girls are commonly misconceived as being smarter and more diligent than most boys. Atobe supported that motion - he'd seen his fair share of successful women in his life - to a certain extent. Takahata Shiori was the exception to his arguments. Atobe didn't know about other girls in the school, but words like 'smart' and 'diligent' wouldn't be on any list that had Takahata Shiori's name on it.

Today's geography class would make the earth cry and grovel in despair.

Teacher: The magma and gases from the asthenosphere is released onto the earth's surface through the lines of weakness in the crust. As the magma bursts out from the fissure, it cools and solidifies to form a volcano. Through this we can identify volcanoes to be...? Takahata?

Shiori: Uhhh.

Teacher: The magma and gases are _released_ onto the earth's surface, relieving the pressure within the asthenosphere, which means?

Shiori: Uh, volcanoes are for the earth to pass gas?

By some miracle, Takahata Shiori was in fact in the same class as Atobe, which came as a huge shock. Hyotei had an elitist system, where students who excel in a particular area would be put in class A, and following into B, C, D, E and F. Atobe failed to see the 'particular area' in which Takahata Shiori excelled in. Her grades were certifiably horrible; her perfect nails and everyday makeup suggests that she hardly plays sports; and, oh, don't even mention the arts. Rumor has it that Takahata once sent the visual arts teacher in tears for butchering the subject.

Speaking of butchery, a rabid fangirl nearly yanked off Atobe's leg this morning, trying to hand him a letter - love letter, no doubt - before he entered his classroom. Takahata had rolled her eyes at the girl, like she was ten leagues above her. It made Atobe want to sigh in frustration, but kings didn't sigh, so he held it in.

Due to the elitist system in Hyotei, if you were in a lower class, you couldn't enter a classroom of a higher class. So, that was a bit of relief for Atobe, for most of the fangirls did not have access to the highest-level class across the year level. Which made Atobe even more curious as to how on earth did Takahata Shiori bribe the principle into letting her into class A. Mind you, this is Hyotei Gakuen, the most wealthy school in Japan, second in Asia, and ranking fifteenth in the world, so you'd probably need more than a few billion dollars to buy your way through.

Admittedly, Atobe had had a bit of a relationship with Takahata among business circles, and her family (and she) was considerably wealthy and influential, nearly on par with the Atobe Conglomerate. She could demand a star, and actually get it.

Little things aside, the Takahata Enterprises run a chain of boutiques, _Fleuriste_ , and was _extremely_ well known in the world of fashion. There wasn't a single person in Japan who didn't know of it. The most high-class fashion designers _groveled_ at Takahata Shiori's command, despite the latter's amazing artistic sense.

What he was trying to say was that Takahata Shiori was one of the most influential women in the world, and she could change the whole world's fashion trend into 'cucumbers' if she really wanted to. And models all over the world would wear cucumbers down the runway. It was one of the reasons as to why Atobe did not dare to make the woman his enemy. The other being that Takahata Shiori would probably hunt him into hell if he ever really pissed her off.

* * *

Dinnertime was a sacred time in the Atobe household. Everyone was required to be present on time, and should devote their attention towards the food. Casual banter would be exchanged as shortly and quietly as possible, and no one was allowed to raise their voices, unless the man of the household had something to announce.

Atobe's father put down his silver fork. "Keigo. We will be doing business with the Takahata Enterprises spoon." If Keigo was any less disciplined than he was, he would have spit out his peas in his mouth. But he, being as disciplined as he was, kept a refined posture and looked steadily at his father, awaiting further instructions. _Speak of the devil._

"We have had previous crossings with the Takahata Enterprises, but never a direct, solid business contract. Have you read the news, Keigo?" His father's expression darkened. "It was in the morning paper. The Takahata Enterprises just announced that they have finally completely globalized their brand. Their ranking has moved above us. Just this morning."

Keigo understood the situation immediately. The Atobe Conglomerate has always been ranked first in Japan, and around twentieth in the world. The Takahata Enterprises has always been not far below, subtle, biding their time, but the Atobes were arrogant. They never gave much thought to people below them, instead of those above. And now their arrogance had come back and shot them right in the foot.

Not since the establishment of the conglomerate, has it been surpassed. Such a sudden passing of the crown was a major setback for the conglomerate.

His father scowled. "We need to take action. Quickly." Keigo nodded enthusiastically. "Keigo. I will set you up for an engagement with the Takahata's eldest daughter, Takahata Shiori. We shall attack from within." This time, Keigo did indeed nearly spit out his food (meaning that the sausage he was chewing spilled halfway out of his mouth, but hasn't fallen to his plate yet), which earned a disapproving glare from his mother.

His father gave him a disgusted look. "Wipe your mouth, Keigo, and listen to what I have to say. We shall arrange an engagement with Takahata Issei's daughter. They're bound to accept; Issei would never pass up a chance to rise even further. We will cooperate with the Takahata Enterprises, and with the inter-marriage, our link of trust will be established. Understand, Keigo? Of course, the daughter has to agree as well." Atobe wanted to say that there was _no way_ Takahata Shiori wouldn't accept, but he kept his mouth shut. His father continued, "Issei treasures his children, and hold's their best interests at priority. Which includes his daughter's degree of attraction towards you, Keigo. You will court her. I have prepared her personal profile for you, just in case." He snapped his fingers, and a servant brought him a file. "Review this carefully, and know what the girl would like or dislike. Do not make her your enemy." His words spoke volumes. _Befriend her. Make her fall in love with you. Court her._

Ah, he'll be damned.

* * *

A/N: REVIEW. I need your reviews to continue. I want five. Is that too much?


	2. Seduce Me

A/N: This is overdue, I know. I have given up on excuses. REVIEW for more.

* * *

When Atobe returned to school on Monday, he couldn't even look at Takahata Shiori without wanting to puke. He was supposed to be married to that _catastrophe_? She probably couldn't even tie her own shoelaces. (Not that he was an expert at tying shoelaces himself, but he like to think himself above others.)

Takahata Shiori was beaming and gloating as if _she_ had just accomplished the most outstanding achievement in the world. _She knows,_ a voice in the back of his brain groaned irritatingly.

She thrust her hips right and left, walking down the hallway like a model, her lips pulled back into a wide smile, revealing her flawless white teeth. "Keigo," she purred. "I knew we were meant to be."

"It's Keigo Clarion-Pierre Gabriel Francis Atobe, Takahata-"

She cut him off by placing a finger on his lips, making him take a step back, gagging. Her fingernails were covered in a disturbing shade of hot pink. "Why so formal, Keigo? I am your future wife. Address me by my first name as well, Keigo." She batted her eyelashes. Atobe was starting to grow sick of her face.

He wanted to snap and say the most horrible swear words into her face and watch with pleasure as her face twists uglily into a scowl.

 _Do not make her your enemy._

"Of course, Shiori. With pleasure." He said through gritted teeth.

* * *

After Atobe had told Oshitari everything, he responded without much enthusiasm to the main issue itself. He was more interested in the relationship itself, rather than how Atobe was feeling right now, not surprisingly.

He whistled. "A marriage headed towards divorce. I place my money on three weeks."

Atobe stared. "Three weeks?"

"How long your supposed marriage is going to last." Oshitari rolled his eyes. "Trust me, darling. She's going to ditch you faster than you can say 'Keigo Clarion-Pierre Gabriel Francis Atobe' once she finds out you use more beauty products than she does."

Indignant, Atobe dished out fifty laps. Oshitari chuckled as he skipped towards the jogging lane, smirking, "Call me when you get married, darling. I'll be your best man at your wedding."

Unfortunately, this was the exact moment Takahata decided to show up. "Keigoooo," she sang as she dragged out the 'o'. "I've come to watch you practice, dear!" Atobe shivered at the endearment, as if someone had shoved a raw fish down his neck and the fish wiggled into his blood veins.

Oshitari nearly choked on his own stifled laughter at Atobe's face as he ran his assigned laps.

Atobe scowled at the regulars, and turned towards his fiancee, almost seething. "What is it, Shiori?"

She grinned. "I've come to watch you practice, Keigo. In exchange, you can come to have dinner with me later as well, fair enough?" Atobe wanted to point out that this was in no way fair, but he gritted his teeth and flashed a charming smile. Shiori smiled back, and made Atobe want to throw up.

Practice was...taxing. Both physically and mentally. He had to constantly run over to his _fiancee_ (oh, and soon-to-be divorcee) and make sure she didn't skip off and butted into someone else's practice, and he spent the rest of his time driven crazy by the regulars constant teasing. Oshitari was the death of him.

Atobe actually lost three games to Mukahi. As the sunlight seeped into his eyes, keeping track of the bouncing boy made his vision go woozy and made the world go round and round and round and round and round and round. Or not. Eventually, when Shiori left for a toilet break, it was as if all the strength in the world came back to him and slaughtered Mukahi. How miracles came and go.

Shiori was even more enthusiastic when his practice ended.

"Keigoooo," she whined into the boys' locker room from the door. "Are you ever done?"

Shishido showed signs of extreme discomfort at the idea that a woman was shrieking into the boys' locker room. He grumbled, "It's like being molested without the actual molesting."

Oshitari sighed as he slipped on his uniform trousers. "I feel sexually assaulted. King, exert control over your fiancee."

Atobe scowled at him. He did a lost of scowling these days. "Ore-sama is annoyed at your bantering. Shut up, peasants."

A ghost-like wail echoed into the locker room once again. "Keigooo. Oh, Keigoooo? How ungentlemanly of you to keep your dear wife waiting."

Atobe's face twisted into an agonized one, his fingers ripping into his hair in a half-crazed manner.

Oshitari smirked. "Good luck, darling."

* * *

It was a Japanese restaurant. Normally, Atobe enjoyed Japanese food. Exception being when a bitch was sitting within his five-meter radius.

They placed their order. The restaurant didn't have Atobe's favorite tuna cake. The day was turning out to be brighter than ever.

"Keigooo." Shiori rested her chin on her palm. "Tell me more about you. It's really funny that when I think about it, it's like I hardly know you, sweetheart." She giggled ridiculously. _Sweetheart._ It was bloodcurdling. No one _ever_ called him 'sweetheart'. Not even his own mother. (Not that his mother would ever be caught dead calling anyone 'sweetheart'.)

Atobe decided that he wasn't going to pretend anymore. He scowled. "Listen, Takahata. Ore-sama did not agree to any part of this engagement. Do not call ore-sama 'sweetheart'. I _despise_ you. If you must, address the king with his full name. That is the most leniency ore-sama can grant you."

Shiori's eyes froze over. They narrowed, and the brown pupils sharpened as the woman's lips pulled into a leer. "Oh? Are you implying that the alliance between the Takahata Enterprises and the Atobe Conglomerate is over with the breakage of this engagement?" She was the type of woman that was lethal with power in her hands.

 _The woman knew how to play her cards_. His fists retracted their claws.

Shiori's leer grew more malicious. Her eyes lit up with delight. "I thought not. You wouldn't be so stupid, would you, Keigo?" She replied smoothly.

"Of course not." How could he, when the future of the Atobe Conglomerate was at stake? The Takahata Enterprises has been an important business partner since the founding of both companies. It would be a severe blow to the economy if the Atobes were to lose such a partner. The Takahata Enterprises was a globalized market. The Atobe Conglomerate majored only in Asia (It was first in Asia, while the Takahata Enterprises ranked a lower eleven). When it came to continental rankings, the Conglomerate was head and shoulders above the Takahata Enterprises. But in a more international point of view, even grade schoolers would know enough to say that the Takahata Enterpsies was more influential and powerful.

Sitting across the table was Takahata Shiori of said corporation, who was smiling so infuriatingly devilishly. "Now, back to what we were talking about. One of these days, I should go to your tennis matches. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

This. This was the twist. The manipulator in this fragile relationship had switched from the male to the female. Atobe used to hold authority over her, when she was just another fangirl who dying to win his attention. But, it was completely different now. Power had shifted towards the one who held a threat above the other's head. And she wasn't allowing so much of a choice right now.

Scrutinizing her, she wasn't really as stupid as Atobe thought her to be. She might not have amazing grades, but she knew how to play mind games, and she was an expert in wrapping someone right around her finger. That was what really mattered in this dog-eat-dog world. And anyway, who needs to pay attention in class when she has more than a hundred intellectuals at her beck and call?

It was not like him to be controlled like a rag doll. Kings _took_ control; those who were controlled were not true kings. Takahata Shiori could threaten him all she liked; he would retaliate in same. Just as the Atobe Conglomerate could not afford to lose the Takahata Enterprises, there were things the Takahata Enterprises could not afford to lose as well.

Atobe sipped some tea from his cup, his eyes boring into hers by the edge of the cup. "Did you know, Shiori? Ore-sama's father is planning to go into the fashion industry. He thinks it would be beneficial to our economy." Shiori raised an eyebrow.

"And? Do you support this, Keigo?"

He set down his cup. "Of course. A hundred per cent. Father seems to be searching for partners in Asia." Shiori sucked in a low breath, so low Atobe probably wouldn't have caught if he were not listening for it. The conglomerate's sphere of influence in Asia was almost overwhelming; if it were to expand specifically in Asia, it would be no difficult task to acquire partners in business. The Takahatas power within Asia would be severely diminished.

But Shiori was just as a good actor as he were. "Really? That would be refreshing. Give my to-be father-in-law my best wishes. I wish him a prosperous journey in the fashion industry. It's a hard ride if one wishes to follow such a path whole-heartedly." The sparks that threw from her eyes indicated her feelings on this issue. Alas, the fury Atobe would incur when the bluff was called; Father had never mentioned anything of sorts. But a man had to redeem his pride, no?

Pride returning to his cheeks, he grew cocky again. "Ore-sama's father won't be needing luck of any sort, dear Shiori. Oddly, the Atobe family prefers to put its trust in ability, unlike the Takahatas."

Shiori was not shaken the least by this snide comment. Her refined fingers brushed back her flawless hair. "I hope that was not a challenge, husband. How saddening it would be if our marriage fell apart before it even came together."

An all-out war. Shiori wasn't holding anything back at all. Atobe finally realized the purpose of today's dinner. It wasn't some silly chat to know each other better; more like the first struggle for power in this relationship: a coup d'état.

This engagement was far from normal. Two of the most powerful families in Japan coming together to form a union with this inter-marriage; but there must be one leading such an alliance. The one who won today's war would earn the ultimate advantage.

Atobe was beginning to acknowledge Shiori's tenacity. He should have noticed this earlier, but she was a natural puppeteer. She pulled the invisible strings of people below her, and right now she was trying to hook the strings onto him. Once they were firmly hooked, there was no escaping the trap of her control. If he had known this earlier, he would have treated her more warily before. How many men had fallen under her slippery words and provocative smile?

He was the king; he would allow no one to preside over him. "Impossible, fiancee. Why would ore-sama attempt at all to remove any kind of link to the most beautiful of all?" he purred. His words were coated with so much sugar it would give anyone diabetes, yet Shiori seemed only mildly impressed by his foreplay. Rather surprising; his advances had been received by less than enthusiasm for the first time.

At this moment, the waiter brought them their food. The tension was momentarily broken as they paused to feed themselves. It seemed, at first glance, that Atobe had gotten the last word, and was victorious in the first round. But the look on Shiori's face made Atobe lose all triumphs of victory (it could be hardly counted as a victory anyway; he was just trying to court her at the last bit).

Romantic advances worked as well as it did with a cow when it came to Takahata Shiori (no, it was even worse; at least a cow wouldn't shoot you looks of disdain across the table while still maintaining an air of elegance).

* * *

Shiori savored the melting of the deluxe salmon on her tongue, spying the boy across her. _He isn't half bad._ She pursed her lips. _So he does realize what today's dinner mean. Smart boy. And here I was, thinking he'd be an easy prey._ She slipped another piece of salmon into her mouth. Men difficult to please were the type she preferred. It made things so much more exciting.

She'd originally meant to slaughter him in the first few minutes; she hadn't expected him to counter her attacks so aggressively. She'd conquered so many men, the whole process seemed almost tasteless. It was like a routine: flatter him, intimidate him, smother him, finish him. What a thwart in plans, to have already been stopped in the second stage. To be honest, she wouldn't consider the first stage to be particularly successful either. Keigo didn't really buy her confessions of love anyway.

 _Mm, the salmon is pretty good. I should get Shiki to come here with me sometime._

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Shiki. _Speak of the devil._ She flipped open her phone.

 _A-ne-ki. wHerE aRe yoU?_

She rolled her eyes. Her fingers flew over the keyboard: _Dinner with my sweetheart. Don't come and trash it._

A reply came almost immediately: _Pops is looking for you. Not pretty, sis. I hope you told him about your romantic candle-light dinner._

Shit. She forgot about her father. _Tell him I'll be back by ten latest. Make me sound sorry._

 _You make yourself sound sorry. I ain't doing your dirty work for you. Helpful tip: if you could manage it, it would be fantastic if you could stay out even later. I haven't told Pops about my discipline mark penalty, yet. See ya, sis._

Shiori wanted to reply, but Shiki was already offline. Once he went offline, there was no telling when he'd check his texts again, so there really wasn't a point in sending a reply.

She switched off her phone, and turned to smile brilliantly at Keigo. Her lips pursed at just the right degree, and her eyebrows furrowed adorably (or so she thought).

"I'm sorry, Keigo, but I completely forgot about dinner with my father. He's having a fit, and I must go home." She rolled her eyes, like this was the most annoying thing ever, while her brain went into another route: _Oh, good riddance. I never thought this possible, but I think I've had enough of Atobe Keigo's face for one day._

Keigo had a very pretty face, but the way he lifted it was a bit narcissistic, and it made you uncomfortable all the same. It was like watching a couple gaze disgustingly into each other's eyes. One could not simply stare at that for a full day.

Keigo frowned. "Well, that can't be helped. Ore-sama shall do you the honor of seeing you home." When Atobe Keigo wanted to flirt, he _flirted._ Every cell in Shiori's body screamed: _Push him down and kiss him senseless! To hell with his face!_

She definitely wanted to kiss him, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd had sex in public... (The first time was when she'd gotten herself drunk and somehow yanked the boy's pants off by accident...and one thing led to another.)

Shiori smiled again, and snapped her fingers to signal the waiter for the bill. Her hand had drawn out a credit card when Keigo curled his fingers around hers. "Ore-sama will pay. It is only right." Shiori's heart skipped a beat. Oh, boy. Her self-control was about to... How eagerly had she awaited this day, the day when the king, Atobe Keigo would be hers. The final, impossible prey, wound tightly within the grasp of her hand. She didn't care how that happened; what mattered was that Keigo was now hers.

* * *

Atobe had to literally choke back vomit as he attempted to please the woman. Why was he doing this again? Why was he trying to delight someone he didn't want to delight? But he would admit that he was proud to see that his wooing skills had not diminished in the least. That Takahata Shiori was flattened, obviously. As long as he held the strings over her heart, the Takahata Enterprises would be under control, and Father would be satisfied at last.

He placed his hand on Shiori's back as he led her out the restaurant. Typical of her to forget a meeting with someone else. Peering at her face, he was fairly confident he had established some sort of rein on her. She was completely flustered, by the looks. (Or, she could be a very good actor, but Atobe preferred to believe in the power of his skills.) One thing he was definitely sure about: Takahata Shiori liked his face. A lot.

* * *

A/N: REVIEW. More sexual stuff in coming chapters, but not over the top. Review if you want to see it.


	3. Come to Mama, Then to Papa

A/N: Finally. CHAPTER 3 IS COMPLETED. (To be perfectly honest, I finished up chapter 3 around four months ago. Just never got around to posting it. Chapter 4 is almost completed as well, so expect more to come in the next week.)

* * *

They did not speak much on the way back. Atobe had offered to drop her off her mansion, and she accepted the invitation without hesitation.

Really setting aside his thoughts and taking a good look at her, Takahata Shiori was not bad-looking at all. She had a nice curve to her body, her slightly curled brown hair trickling down her shoulders, clinging to her back. Her fingers were long and nicely shaped, and her skin was divine, smooth with a hint of pale. He had never noticed this before, but her limbs were subtly yet perfectly toned, showing lines of muscles here and there. He retracted his previous statement of her not playing any kind of sports.

Her grades were bad, but she had her mastery of quite a few languages, including Spanish, French and Chinese, which was commendable. She was probably the type that did well with oral instead of writing, and she could definitely work things with her mouth (kissing included).

However, the final mystery still remained, and ironically, it was the same mystery that ignited his interest in her: How on earth did she stumble into the A class? Just because she knew a few languages couldn't make up for her terrible grades, with which she should be in class E in the very least. What made her stand out so much that she was placed in class A? Come to think of it, she was in A class last year as well. And the previous year.

They had shared the same class for the length of their time in middle school, yet Atobe had never noticed anything special about this woman, apart from her drop-dead looks.

Unfortunately, Shiori caught him staring at this most inappropriate moment. "Can't get enough of me, Keigo?" She licked her lips, and leaned forward so that space between them was reduced drastically. Her cleavage was showing with the medium cut V-neck of the school uniform. _Hormones will be the death of ore-sama._ Their noses almost touched, and Atobe found himself shamelessly wishing they were even closer. This was not how kings behaved...To hell with kingly behavior.

Shiori breathed onto his cheek, devastatingly irresistible. "You cannot imagine how long I've wanted this, for you to look at me as a woman and a spouse, Keigo. I've always wanted you." They were sitting opposite to each other in a limousine, and suddenly that didn't matter at all. Pulling a hand back, Shiori drew the curtains on the glass panel that separated the passengers carriage and the driver's cubicle. Her full lips came even closer, and soon they were all Atobe could register, and he found himself moving closer as well.

The car hit a bump and their foreheads crashed into each other painfully. Atobe leaped back, howling. "Oww..." Shiori clutched at her forehead, her lips pursed. "And it was such a romantic atmosphere too...what a shame."

Blood ran to Atobe's cheeks. What had he nearly done just now? Had he allowed himself within close proximity of Takahata Shiori? He had let her sexual attraction get the best of him. He was a king, and kings did not give into temptation. He scowled at himself, and fixed his hair.

The glass panel that had its curtains shut emitted a knock. "Young Master Keigo? We have arrived at the Takahata mansion."

Shiori came closer again. "Walk me to the door, Keigo?"

They stepped out of the car, with Shiori swinging her bag behind her. She was definitely a man-eater, that was for sure. If he let her gain control for even one second, well, he couldn't imagine what would happen. She would never relinquish it again. He _would_ stand his ground.

All of that self control evaporated when Shiori grabbed his arm and spun him sideways into the garden. It was dark, and there was no light except from the illuminating moon. Atobe found them positioned most scandalously, and anyone who found them would have a unanimous misconception that they were making out.

Shiori had one hand placed on his chest, and the other wrapped behind his neck, his head dipping to touch her forehead. Their noses tickled each other as she leaned into him to get a mouthful- "Let's pick up from where we were so unfortunately interrupted," she whispered, and pressed her lips onto his. His mind went completely blank, and he recognized instinctively that Shiori had won the battle. _Damn, this was what she was after the whole time._

But his rational part of the brain was taken over by her scent, and he found himself bending lower to meet her mouth eagerly. She gasped when Atobe slipped his tongue into her mouth, and responded with the same passion, enthusiastic that she was finally getting some positive reaction from him. Shiori's back arched at an impossible angle, yet her mouth certainly didn't disappoint. Her fingers twirled into his hair, and their lips could have been merged into one for all they knew.

It was like someone had pushed the button 'frenzy'. Atobe's excitement heightened like a rocket; he had never experienced anything like this with other girls. Whatever they were doing right now, Takahata Shiori was incredibly _good_ at it. He felt a bit frustrated that he was completely playing into her hands, but her tongue licked away all those thoughts almost immediately. But he would turn the table back towards him.

He guided her skillfully to lean against a wall and pushed her so much that Shiori sucked in a surprised breath. Her uniform was a mess. It had slipped off her shoulder at some point, and Atobe ran his fingers over the smooth skin and gazed into her brown, brown eyes. Her skirt was hitched up a few inched, and he found himself wanting to slip a few dirty fingers up her divine legs. Shiori pulled back for a moment to take a breath, and her lips curled up. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She said breathlessly.

Funny. A day ago, he despised the mere thought of her. Now, it seemed more than acceptable. But he knew this would never last. It would serve only as a midsummer night's dream - a sweet fantastical memory. It would never become more than a memory.

Not too gently, he let go of her, ignoring the beast clawing at the insides of his brain. He cocked his head. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Takahata Shiori." And he left her, in the garden, just like that.

* * *

Shiori narrowed her eyes and bit down on her nail, barely containing her rage and disappointment. How dare Atobe Keigo? How dare he leave her standing in the dark like that? Did he take her for a fool? And he was so excited when they got to the kissing too!

Her face twisted, her teeth showing an ugly scowl. No men had ever left her like that. They had always treated her as if she were a goddess, kissing the ground she walked, and it was always _her_ doing the leaving, enjoying the last word. Men _begged_ her to stay, _begged_ her for her kisses. And Atobe Keigo just tossed her aside! Like she was disposable!

Flying into a rage, she kicked the front door open, and the door hit the marble wall with a loud bang. A maid stared at the dented, cracked marble, horrified. Shiori took pleasure in snarling at the puny maid, who squeaked and dashed away in fright.

"Young Mistress? Is everything alright?" Their old housekeeper, Yoshimura, came up to her, bowing. "Your father is waiting for you in his study. You just missed dinner." Shiori tossed him a snarl as well, and disgruntled it did not have the impact it had on the maid. Then, she stormed up the stairs to her father's study.

Shiki happened to be sauntering down the stairs. He looked amused. "What, did you not have a good time with your husband, sister?" Shiori bared her teeth, seething, and Shiki backed away in mock fright, palms up. "Ooh, touchy. Lovely attitude there. Dad will be thrilled."

Unable to contain herself anymore, she grabbed her brother's shirt collar. Shiki stood there, still wearing the infuriating smirk. "Listen, you moronic brat. I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with you. You don't want me to scratch you, do you?" She threatened, flashing her perfectly shaped nails, and flung him away.

Shiki merely shrugged, and made a face at her as he disentangled himself from his sister's grasp skillfully and skipped away. Shiori bit back the urge to sink her manicured fingers into his eyeballs.

She knocked twice on the door. The reply came almost immediately. "Come in." Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the doors, which coincidentally were made of maple wood.

Shiki was right about one thing: Father was less than thrilled at life at the moment right now. His hands were tightly clenched, and his eyes were shooting literal sparks. She could see the blood veins popping one by one on his scrunched forehead.

His first question, undoubtedly, was: "Where were you?"

Shiori played with her earlobe. "I was hanging out with Atobe-kun."

"And what were you doing with the son of the Atobe Conglomerate? Something worthwhile, I hope?"

Her fingers went to her hair, twirling. "I, umm, we were, uh, setting up future diplomatic relations." Her eyes darted to everywhere which wasn't her father.

"Oh? Future diplomatic relations? _You?"_ Her father's tone went up an octave, almost amused. Almost.

"Why, yes, Father."

Father unclenched his fists, and un-unclenched them again. "Very well. Yet, that was not the reason I wanted to talk to you today. I wanted to discuss the upcoming season." His eyes twinkled with glee. "If you intend to compete, you must prepare well. I have already talked with Kyoko, and she agrees that you must be subjected to extensive training. This year will be your year, Shiori."

If there was one thing Shiori liked about her father, it was the fiery determination to win. Shiori grinned. "Of course I intend to compete, Father. This is my game. No one can take it from me."

Father stood up, pulling back a wicked smile. "Very well."

* * *

Takahata Shiori did not go to school the next day. Her seat was vacant, and the teacher asked no questions. Atobe raised an eyebrow at that. Was the woman too ashamed to show her face? Perhaps he did leave her a bit too harshly the night before.

She did not come to school on the following day either. Her seat was still vacant, and the teacher still asked no questions. People started talking, but it was nothing major. Atobe was confident she would be back in no time.

When Shiori did not show up for a week, rumors spread like fire. Stories like: she had eloped with a girlfriend to Spain, or she had gotten herself pregnant, or that she was dumped by a guy and was too proud to show her face, or that she had herpes, or even that she caught the rare disease called Atobe-itis (this came from Yuushi; Atobe would murder him later on) burned wildly. The Atobe-itis one was by far the most popular one. Everyone loved a tragic heroine, hands down.

Teachers still didn't say anything, meaning Shiori must have already been excused for good reason. Takahata Shiki was in charge of passing on the homework to his sister; he was also in class A. Unlike his stupid twin, Shiki was widely known for being a smartass-playboy. He had placed an overall fourth in the level last year. For information's sake, he'd only lost the third to Oshitari by a bare 0.01%, and if he had made more of an effort (apparently he'd been locked up in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Station the night before the exams for loitering), he definitely would have blown past the third, and the second with flying colors. (The first was yours truly, Atobe Keigo, and he'd die before he'd admit anyone would ever surpass him)

"Oi, Takahata!" Atobe called towards the sauntering figure down the hall. The figure paused, and turned around with a smirking expression.

"It's 'onii-san' to you, future brother-in-law." Shiki stuck his tongue out annoyingly. "What do you want, wannabe king? Dirty secrets about aneki? I knew you were a closet perv."

Atobe scowled. Takahata Shiki was the most troublesome person in the world to deal with, and no adult, even his parents, had ever managed to exert control over him. The only person who could come close to _making_ him listen was probably his twin, Takahata Shiori, and that was cutting it pretty close. It made sense; Takahata Shiori was lethal enough to make anyone listen if she wanted to.

Atobe slipped his fingers into his hair. "As if ore-sama would require such a monstrous thing. And _if_ ore-sama really did, there are other ways ore-sama could utilize that you cannot even imagine of." This did not at all fluster Shiki, only amusing him. Understandable, seeing as he dealt with Takahata Shiori on a daily basis; this kind of thing was routine for him.

Shiki rolled his eyes. "Unlike you, yours truly has things to tend to, and has no time to play with wannabe kings like you. Ah-" he suddenly remembered something, and reached into his pocket. He held up a card, an taunting smirk. "I picked this out of the trash the other day. I thought it looked awfully like you, Your Majesty. Here," Shiki flicked the card at him. Atobe caught it with ease, and flipped it over with curiosity. Anger quickly replaced that curiosity. It was the king of diamonds. Shiki's smirk grew even larger as he watched Atobe. It was a mockery from him, Atobe knew it. The card was awfully crumbled, but Atobe could still make out the tiny words written at the margin: _gEt reAL yOuR mAjestY_

Atobe looked up and opened his mouth to blow off the bastard's head, but he had disappeared already. The question sitting at the bottom of his stomach went unsaid, yet again.

* * *

A/N: REVIEW. I'm starting to feel a bit neglected. Thy Lady O' Liberty and Salvation will be up soon as well. Just need to wrap it up nicely before I post it here :) REVIEW PLEASE, or I might forget about putting up Chapter 4. *smirk* *wink, wink*


	4. Drama Queen

A/N: Chapter 4 is up, folks. I have everything written up until chapter six, so review for the chapters, peeps. This is sort of a chapter that introduces the upcoming conflicts and plot twists, and I guaratee that chapter five will shake your pants off if you stay tuned.

And oh oh oh oh - I just fell in love with AnoHana and Clannad. Any fans here? (hopeful glance) PM me, fellow crusaders of angst anime, we have a serious discussion due. Okazaki is simply so heart-breaking. Clannad is the best thing that ever happened to me, period. FANS PM MEEEEEE.

I just realized I never added in a disclaimer. I own my OCs, and I own nothing.

* * *

Hyotei started school a month earlier than others, and it was always a bit awkward seeing teenagers the same age not in uniforms as well. March was supposed to be the season of spring, but February's cold breath still plagues Tokyo and the rest of Japan.

Adjusting his tie, Keigo handed the chauffeur his school bag, and stepped into the limousine.

"Where to, Young Master Keigo?" The chauffeur dipped his head. Today was one of the rare days where the Tennis Club had no practice, yet his schedule was just as full.

"The Takahata mansion, if you will." Keigo drew out a thin stack of papers from his bag, slipped on his glasses, and started glossing over the documents quickly. Father had told him only this morning that they would be joining the Takahatas for dinner and signing a business contract with them if all goes well. "Where is ore-sama's father, Arashi? Is he not to join ore-sama?"

Arashi the butler replied respectfully, "Master Kenji will be joining the Young Master shortly afterwards. He will be meeting you at the designated venue."

Keigo's eyes went back to the documents, but his mind wandered. Perhaps that Shiori was at home with some sort of illness. He enjoyed the thought of that idea immensely. After all, it seemed the most probable and entertaining theory.

The limo pulled up at the Takahata mansion, where Keigo had been only a week ago. Arashi followed after him as he entered the magnificent front doors and strode into the mansion. A maid led the way. As he walked, Keigo caught sight of one Takahata Shiki leaning against the railing of the second floor. When Shiki caught sight of him, he grinned down at him and curtsied, mouthing: _Your Majesty._

Scowling, Keigo reached the room where the discussion would be held.

The maid said, "This is the room, Keigo-sama. Your father has already arrived."

Slowly, Keigo pushed open the heavy doors. Heads turned at his direction. "My apologies for my tardiness." He bowed deeply.

His father frowned disapprovingly, but the other man nodded. "You must be Keigo-kun. It is a pleasure to meet you." Takahata Issei gave off a less intense aura, but he was definitely not the lesser man. While Atobe Kenji was notorious for his tenacity in business, Takahata Issei was infamous for his deceiving appearance and cunningness. Much like his daughter. "Take a seat, Keigo-kun. We were just about to wrap up."

Atobe Kenji coughed into his hand and cleared his throat. "Issei, do think about it. Our offer will stand until you accept it."

Takahata Issei retained a poker face, smiling slightly. "Seeing as you are an old friend from school, Kenji, I shan't reject you from my threshold for intimidating our family earlier on. Your offer will be taken into consideration, but it will, however, only remain a thought. The Takahata Enterprises has no intention of amalgamating with the Atobe Conglomerate, nor any other company. We are an independent business, have always been that way, and will stay that way. Now, shall we move on to a more light-hearted chat?"

Atobe Kenji exhaled deeply, and leaned back on his chair. "Very well. To our next topic. The matter of the engagement."

"I daresay my daughter would be more than pleased to have Keigo-kun. I myself am more than thrilled to welcome Keigo-kun. But I will emphasize that this engagement does not signify any sort of merger. It will only stand for a peace settlement between our two feudal companies, is that clear?" Takahata Issei's voice was dangerously calm.

Atobe Kenji growled. " _Very_ well. We understand." A forced smile spread across his face. "I see your daughter is doing quite well these days. I saw her in the papers the other day. Congratulations." Keigo blinked at this comment. The papers? He hadn't read them much lately.

Issei chuckled. "You are too kind, Kenji. I have received word from my younger son that Keigo-kun had scored a magnificent victory at the Junior Tennis Tournament in Britain last summer."

Kenji waved a hand. "That is nothing compared to your daughter's achievements. At such a young age too!" Puzzlement settled in Keigo's brain. What on earth were they talking about Shiori?

"My daughter might be talented in that aspect, but her efforts in academic aspects...leave very much to be desired. On the other hand, Keigo-kun has managed to maintain excellent grades while balancing his athletic hobbies. That is what a true sportsman should look like."

Kenji barked a laugh. "Oh, but you have your brilliant son for that. He's a genius, that one. Perfect in all aspects. Of course, his talent for athletics might not be as prominent as his sister's, but it is there nonetheless." Shiori? A talent for athletics? Was this a bad joke?

Issei sighed depressingly. "Shiki will be the death of me. He is talented in a lot of aspects, yes. But it depends on how he utilizes those talents."

"Yes, yes. I still remember the time when he exploded the south wing of your summer villa two years ago." Kenji laughed.

Laughing heartily, Issei turned his attention to Keigo. "So, Keigo-kun, what do you think of my daughter? I understand that she might not be the perfect girl, but I hope you can accept her as she is."

Keigo pulled back his lips charmingly. It killed him to say what he was about to say. "Shiori is more than I could ask for. She is a lovely, delicate, devoted young lady. I cannot imagine a better fiancee to be engaged with."

Issei laughed, evidently pleased. "You speak too highly of her. Oh, that's right. Keigo-kun, have you seen any of her performances?"

 _Like I have any idea what those are._ Keigo spoke diplomatically, "Unfortunately, no. I haven't had the honor."

Issei looked even more gleeful, if possible. "Well, you certainly have to, one of these days. I can't say much for her brains or anything else, but when it comes to this, she is the most talented person I have ever seen. Pity she can't inherit my company with only that."

Well, that was a surprise. As far as Keigo knew that slut, the only she'd be good at was drama, he assumed. With that witch-like face, she'd probably just lick the pants off everyone.

Just then, Issei leapt up as if he had just remembered something. "I have some extra tickets to Shiori's competition two weeks later," he exclaimed. "It's during a long weekend, so Keigo-kun could come as well." With a snap of his fingers, two servants went huddling away, most probably for the said tickets.

"Oh, you are too kind, Issei." Kenji tripped all over himself to shake Issei's hand. "To be honest myself, I have been intending to see one of her performances one of these days, but never managed to get my hands on tickets. They just sell all out when your talented daughter is involved!"

The two servants returned, with two envelopes on a tray, held towards Issei. Almost daintily, Issei picked up the two envelopes and handed them towards Kenji. "It's held in Hungary, and I'll be there as well." _Hungary?_ What the hell kind of drama competition was that?

Kenji took the envelopes and passed them to Keigo, who received less than happily. "So I suppose Shiori-chan won't be coming to school these months? I mean, with all those competitions going on."

"Yes, indeed. I hope the school authority will not make me bear the shame of having my daughter kicked out of school when she returns." Issei laughed. "So I'll see you two in Hungary the week after the next, then."

Keigo stretched a smile across his face. "It's been a pleasure."

* * *

The envelope was shoved under a stack of papers in the upper right drawer of his cupboard to the right as soon as Keigo returned home. He debated about burning it, but wisely decided not to. In worst case scenario, his father would get him to fly to Hungary to watch a stupid drama show, and if it was ever discovered that he had burnt the ticket the Takahata family had so generously given him...

Growling, he tossed away the match he nearly crushed in his hand. How he hated that woman.

With an angry shove, he flipped open his laptop violently. He had homework to do, followed immediately by documents he had to go over for the company's program Father had put him in charge of. The company was planning to sponsor a bunch celebrities that would become their company's spokespersons. Most of them were models and actors, but occasionally, there would be a few flashier athletes that slip into the bunch.

But, oh, why did that bastard Moriyama assign them a stupid, fifteen-paged history essay with citations only barely two weeks into the term? And due on the day after tomorrow too. It must have been because of the Takahata siblings skipping school together.

He had his schedule booked for tomorrow, and the whole week. His hands were full with dealing with the tennis team, and the daily documents and reports he had to go over, and the interviews he had to be present for to select a new batch of employees. He'd been so busy this week, he hadn't even taken the time to read through the details of the sponsor program. He had to meet up with his designated assistant two days later, and discuss different candidates for the program. He had so much on his plate he felt like choking, suffocating and dying.

However, before he committed suicide, this history essay had to be dealt with.

* * *

Pulling an all-nighter was nothing. Pulling all-nighters throughout the week was something, though. When Atobe stepped out of his room, the maid waiting on him had gone pale, and nearly called for an ambulance, to Atobe's mild surprise.

"Everything alright, Atobe?" If even Oshitari was asking that, he must be in really bad shape.

Massaging his temples, Atobe groaned and turned left. "Ore-sama requires not the sympathy of commoners, for ore-sama has not stooped to that level yet."

Oshitari rolled his eyes. "Oh, I see. Your Royal Highness? That's the Women's Restroom." Atobe was a king, so he hid his embarrassment like a man.

"O-ore-sama was intending to shut the door for them politely."

"The Men's Parlor is on the next hallway, for your information." Oshitari veered him away from the Women's Restroom. "I don't mean kindness when I say this. But I care about your kingly dignity, so go lie down before you flush yourself down the toilet."

"Enough coming from you, Oshitari. Ore-sama has his own plans."

Atobe whisked around, and headed back to his classroom. Sitting down at his desk, he took out his laptop, and continued working on his twenty-paged essay which still had five pages to go. After five minutes, his eyelids felt like they needed surgery. He had barely even made any progress.

It wasn't like he'd never stayed up for so long before (he'd once attempted the incredible feat of only sleeping for twelve hours in one month; he ended up in a hospital for a week.), but it was mainly Takahata Shiori that reduced him to such a condition. Just dealing with her took away fifty percent of his energy. Thinking about her took away twenty. Catching a glimpse of her brother sucked away another twenty. Meaning that he was working with only ten percent of what was left of his energy.

The school newspaper committee was handing out the weekly school newspaper, and they were exceptionally loud, successfully giving him a headache. But none of that mattered anymore, because his head was swarming in circles, and the microscopic words on the screen became one black line continuing to the end of the page.

Someone from the newspaper committee was trying to stuff a rolled up newspaper into his bag, but Atobe hardly registered that. Something was hammering his skull, and he had to get whatever that was out. He couldn't even open his eyes without feeling the pain traveling down his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

Jamming his thumbing into his temples, he closed his eyes and cursed Takahata Shiori's existence. How on earth could a single, idiotic woman manage to deal such damage to a king? Kings did not falter; Atobe refused to do so. He would slice his eyelids off if that was what it took to keep himself awake.

* * *

"Really, Atobe. You should have known better." Oshitari patted the king's stomach affectionately. Atobe resisted the urge to drown him in the calm, beautiful of the sea.

The school head nurse, Naomi, emerged from behind the curtain with a few bottles of medicine and syringe. "Is he doing any better, Oshitari-kun?" She asked as she adjusted the nozzle of the syringe.

Oshitari smiled and shook his head. "His fever is still holding up at 54.2 degrees Celsius. I'll go get the antibiotic pills, Naomi-san. He'll need them."

Naomi-san gave Oshitari a thumbs-up, and turned towards Atobe with the syringe's tip pointed towards his face dangerously. "Simply ridiculous, kids these days." She muttered under her breath, wiping the nozzle with a sanitized cloth angrily. And without warning, she jabbed the thing into Atobe's arm, pleasantly forcing out a strangled hiss between the cracks of his teeth.

Naomi-san withdrew the monstrous weapon, and threw a blanket over Atobe. "Oshitari should be coming back with the antibiotics. Take a pill and sleep for around two hours. Then we'll see if you're fit to move," She glared. "Jesus, Atobe-kun. What were you thinking, coming to school in that condition? Really, kids these days..." And she disappeared.

Hyotei's infirmary was humungous, with built-in washrooms, and individual rooms for patients. Beds were queen-sized, and all equipment donated by the Oshitari family.

Atobe stared up at the ceiling, quietly fuming. He had fainted during homeroom, and the whole class made a huge fuss out of it, even though he woke up immediately after he hit the floor. Apparently, Oshitari was sent to take care of him, being on the health committee and that crap.

A squeak from the door alerted Atobe to Oshitari's presence. "I brought you your antibiotics, darling. Be a dear, and take them before you die of your fever." Oshitari drawled as he set a few bottles down.

"Shut up, Oshitari. What would a mere commoner know about anything?" Atobe grumbled as he hoisted himself up on the pillows.

Oshitari, in the process of setting out Atobe's portions of medicine, turned and gave him a sly look. "Oh, I know quite a great deal, my king. For example, I know you've been pulling all-nighters; I know your headache is killing you, and..." Oshitari paused, with his back facing Atobe, "...I know you'll murder me after I do - this!" And all of a sudden in a quick motion, Oshitari forcibly crammed open Atobe's mouth, slipped a few pills in, emptied a glass of water in as well, and cramped his mouth shut.

Atobe spluttered, and pounded his chest furiously to get the water in his lungs out. "What do you think you're doing, Oshitari?" Atobe growled between wheezes.

"You'd have made a huge fuss out of it, and it would have been extremely annoying for me to deal with." Oshitari shrugged as he set the glass down and sat down on a chair himself. "Sleep, Your Majesty. Or it won't be just pills and water I shove down your throat next time." He smiled mischievously.

It must have been the pills, combined with the fact that he hasn't slept for more than twelve hours for the whole week, but the moment Atobe shut his eyes for a blink, he was out cold.

By the time he opened his eyes again, the sky had become a blurrish purple tainted with orange. The clock showed 18:03.

An ice pack was attached to his forehead, numbing his face. Neither Naomi-san nor Oshitari was to be seen in his room. His mouth reeked of bad breath.

He'd wasted nearly ten hours napping when he could have been doing something worthwhile. Wearily, he removed the ice pack from his head and tossed it to the dresser beside his bed.

His headache was gone for now, but his schoolbag was nowhere to be seen - probably still sitting next to his seat back in the classroom. Groaning, he made his way upstairs to retrieve his schoolbag.

Sounds of tennis balls rang throughout the empty building, and Atobe reprimanded himself for another thing neglected. He took two steps at a time, racing back to his classroom. He yanked open the door, to find Takahata Shiki sprawled across four desks he pushed together, much to Atobe's irritation, snoring soundly. The pillow Shiki was resting his head on was precisely Atobe's schoolbag.

Shiki cracked an eye open. "Ara, if it isn't my brother-in-law," He yawned lazily. "Skipping his beloved tennis practice like the model student he is."

"Ore-sama was simply-"

"Don't bother. I'm not nearly awake enough to put up with your noble excuses. Just take this and leave me alone." Shiki fished a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and shoved it at an annoyed Atobe. "Aneki sends you her eternal love from China." With a huge yawn, he moved Atobe's schoolbag out of the way, and used his own arm as a pillow instead.

Unfolding the piece of paper, he read it curiously.

 _Keigo darling~ Your fiancee will be back in Japan for an honorary performance this weekend. Won't you be a good husband and come watch me, my love? Call me._

Why was that bitch running all over the world competing in some kind activity anyway? Did drama include solo performances? Did it even have such kinds of competitions all over the world?

Thrusting the note into his pocket, Atobe grabbed his schoolbag and raced down to the tennis courts, making a mental note to do some thorough research on that bitch.

* * *

A/N: Lovely. REVIEW. REVIEW. Like, for both chapters. I haven't had reviews lately, even from my usual readers, and I'm getting a bit depressed. By the way, have I mentioned how much I adore Okazaki and Nagisa?


	5. Newspapers Are Insightful

A/N: For those who have read the previous version of this story, you might have seen this coming. Bit of language and sex-ish sex because am pissed and am a teenager with hormones. I OWN NOTHING BUT MY BAE SHIORI AND SHIKI AND I DO NOT OWN MY GODDESSES ELENA RADIONOVA OR YULIA LIPNITSKAYA.

This chappie is for the people who actually reviewed: Eemii Duranto, SugarTensai, angellyjoy, Randomness is Awesome, sierrafujoshikut

* * *

He checked the thermometer wearily. 40.9 degrees Celsius. His muscles was suffused with lead.

He was in the worst state possible in the worst time possible. His history essay was, thankfully, competed despite being half-baked. Squinting his eyes at the small print of the citations only brought back his headache.

His reports for the company, however, remained untouched. Father would have his head tomorrow, but Atobe couldn't produce an ounce of energy to save his life. Sighing, he decided to wake up extra early to avoid his demise. Just as he was about to wrap himself in the cocoon of blankets, he spotted the rolled-up piece of school newspaper from the newspaper committee sticking out of his bag.

They were making quite a huge fuss about it today. Curious, he reached out and glanced uninterestedly at the headlines: _Lillehammer_ _marks Takahata's fourth consecutive title._

What? Perhaps he should have gone for a checkup after all. He grabbed his glasses from his dresser, and read again.

 **_Lillehammer marks Takahata's fourth consecutive title_**

 _Prized daughter and soon-to-be heir of Takahata Enterprises Takahata Shiori, displays a stunning performance in the Winter Youth Olympic Games with an amazing triple lutz triple toe loop combination, comes in second place only to Russian representative Elena Radionova in the ladies championships. Takahata will be returning to Japan shortly to perform for the emperor Tsugu Akihito-sama, and swears revenge on Radionova in the World Figure Skating Championships in United States. Takahata makes a bold statement in the following press conference, claiming,"I'll become the youngest world champion in Japan - no, in the world."_

 _New generation of figure skaters bring Japan to new heights. Takahata Shiori is also expected to step onto the podium of the World Junior Figure Skating Championships in Hungary in the upcoming weekend. Sources says Takahata was recently promoted to sixth in terms of world rankings, momentarily overtaking Yulia Lipnitskaya of Russia._

Atobe's fingers froze in shock. He read through the passage again, intently and completely focused this time. By the third re-read, he decided that fatigue was not deceiving his mind.

Three strides across the room brought him in front of his computer, and he violently typed in Takahata Shiori's name in the search bar.

Dozens of websites popped out. He clicked on the Wikipedia section.

 ** _Full name_** _Takahata Shiori_

 ** _Country represented_** _Japan_

 ** _Born_** _28 November 2000 (age 15)_

 ** _Residence_** _Tokyo, Japan_

 ** _Height_** _1.62 m_

 ** _Coach_** _Takahata Kyoko_

 ** _Choreographer_** _Takahata Kyoko_

 ** _Began skating_** _2004_

 ** _World standing_** _5 (as of 1 February 2016)_

 ** _Season's best_**

 _5 (2015-2016)_

 _9 (2014-2015)_

 _12 (2013-2014)_

 ** _Shiori Takahata_** _is a Japanese competitive figure skater. She is a three-time Japanese national champion (2013, 2014, 2015), and a two-time Junior Grand Prix Final champion (2013-15). She is also the 2015-2016 Grand Prix Final Champion, the 2014-15 World Junior Champion, and a two-time Japanese national champion (2013-2015)._

 _As a skating prodigy, she is considered_ _Mao Asada's_ _successor by many with her tremendous success in recent years. She is the second junior girl to land the triple axel only to Mao Asada. She is arguably the current best figure skater in Japan as of 2015-2016. She won her first title at the 2013-14 Junior Grand Prix Final at the age of 13, being the youngest in the world to win the competition. She is a highly regarded athlete in Japan._

Holy _fuck_. That woman was an athlete. Was he supposed to believe that that pig of a woman was a _world junior champion?_

Everything made complete sense now. Why teachers never even raised an eyebrow at her continuous absence, or why her unimaginably horrifying grades were overlooked without question and consistently landed her in the A class every freaking year.

That fucking bitch was a figure skating world junior champion. That was a bit too much for even the great Atobe-sama to take in.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation at himself. Why had it taken him this long to realize?

* * *

 _"Ha? You just realized that?"_

Atobe scowled at his cellphone. "Shut up, Oshitari."

 _"Sorry, sorry. I mean, I knew you were dense, but I wasn't aware that your stupidity was to such a large extent-"_ The damn genius choked off in silence.

"A king has better things to do than to dwell upon commoners' petty business."

 _"I think everyone in the school knows by know. You really are an idiot, my king. I wouldn't call acing the world junior figure skating circuit a petty business, darling Keigo. Not even you have won enough championships to garner even one-tenth of the public attention Takahata Shiori receives. Along with her status as the princess of the Takahata Enterprises and a skating prodigy, I don't suppose even that brat Echizen Ryoma can rival her fame, speaking globally."_

Atobe turned his gaze back to the Wikipedia page, where an image of Takahata Shiori was smirking seductively at him with a medal and bouquet in hand. "Perhaps you would care to tell me more, Yuushi? Since you seem to be so much more knowledgable than ore-sama."

 _"To be honest, I thought you would have done you research when the engagement was set in place. You normally would have, wouldn't you?"_ Oshitari sounded a bit doubtful.

True, under normal circumstances, Atobe would certainly have researched his fiancee through and through. But as usual, his ego and arrogance made him believe there was nothing about Takahata Shiori that was worth his time. And for once, his ego was humiliated.

"Let's just say a lot happened lately. Are you wasting my time or what?"

 _"Takahata's been skating since elementary school. And Takahata Issei has been using that as one of her most prominent selling point. Takahata has the looks, the ability and the tenacity to get what she wants. That is probably one of the reasons why she has been able to come so far. Now if she could do something about her personality and her brains, she would totally be my type."_

"Yuushi, leave your secret lusts and fetishes out of this. No one wants to hear this."

 _"But really, I honestly can't believe you don't know, Kei-kun. The school made a huge fuss when she won her first Junior Grand Prix Final Championship in 2013. They even arranged an awarding ceremony just for her. Were you paying attention?"_

Come to think of it, there might have been a time like that. But Atobe hadn't thought much of it back then. 2013...that was his third year in middle school. He distinctly remembered being ushered on stage to give a quick impromptu speech as the president of the student council to welcome their very honored guest. That was a bad time for the Atobe Conglomerate, and he hadn't gotten much sleep throughout the year...oh.

"Ore-sama was somewhat...distracted."

 _"At any rate, Takahata is expected to hit the top three in world rankings in this year. She's been doing very well since year 2013 when she was finally eligible for different world junior championships. She's extremely well-known in Japan, but she doesn't do advertising for any other companies other than her own. Her father even built her her own training facilities. Her aunt - Takahata Kyoko - is a veteran skater and a former world championship. She has been your fiancee's coach since day one. Oh, you cannot imagine how incredibly blissful it is to have you speechless, Your Highness."_

Dismissing an Oshitari indignantly, he retrieved the ticket Takahata Issei had given him from the bottom of his locked drawer. He wanted to kick himself for not bothering to read the ticket carefully. _2015-2016 World Junior Figure Skating Championships._ A bit unwillingly, he took out his cellphone again, and grudgingly deleted all scheduled items on that weekend.

* * *

Takahata Shiki did not like being tied down. Why would anyone ever wish for a permanent relationship with someone that would only one day come back and stab him in the back?

That was exactly why he despised his family.

He grinned impishly at the naked woman sleeping next to him and bent down to nip at her neck. The woman gasped delightfully and locked her arms around him, her long legs draping over him alluringly. Shiki ran a free hand along the smooth skin, and slipped his tongue through her lips mischievously. Oh, did he like this.

The adrenaline rush of all this, and doing this drunk on top of everything. Oh, _did he like this._

His mind was woozy as his lips found every part of her body, leaving tracks where it left.

The woman - he didn't even know her _name_ \- breathed his name into his ear over and over again. "Shin-kun...Shin-kun..." It seemed absolutely hilarious that she was panting the fake name he'd given her so passionately. She sunk her nails into his back, her lips also fiercely latching themselves onto whatever skin they could find.

At the most untimely, most unwelcome and inconvenient moment, the door banged open. Under the heavy alcohol, Shiki wondered who the hell was barging into his room at three o'clock in the morning.

It was another woman, with an elegant white parka that looked filthy expensive and sunglasses that could frame her whole face, one gloved hand on a bulky suitcase and another holding a Prada handbag. Her chocolate wavy hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Shiki presumed it was just another girl from his usual bar he must have accidentally told to come over to spend the night.

But when the ridiculously huge sunglasses slipped off the girl's nose in disbelief, Shiki wanted to jump off the building right then and there.

The girl ripped off her sunglasses completely in rage, and threw it aside. Furious, she stomped towards the bed and grabbed Shiki by the neck, dragging him (thankfully, with a pair of boxers still on) out of bed. Slamming him to the wall, her manicured nails pierced through her gloves and into Shiki's skin. The woman who was on the bed quickly wrapped a few sheets around herself and ran to Shiki's defense. But the girl kicked her aside with her heeled boots without even passing her half a glance.

"You bastard," The girl punctuated every syllable with accuracy and barely contained rage. "How dare you bring a girl back - no leave that aside for a while - how dare you bring some girl back, completely _abandoned_ me at the airport, and do this kind of vile, vulgar thing _in my fucking room, and in my fucking bed?"_ She bared her teeth at him, hissing. Abruptly realizing something, she let go of Shiki's neck suddenly, and turned towards the whimpering woman who was trying to slip away.

"Oi. Woman." Shiori kicked the door shut. Reaching for her purse, she drew out a few dollar bills and dropped it in front of the woman. "This much should satisfy a goose like you. Leave your ID cards here. I'll have a servant send them back to you before six, after I finish jotting down your personal details. Take it or leave it. You're out of this room one way or another." She scowled daggers down at that woman.

That poor woman who didn't know better decided she would go down with at least a fight. "N-no! Shin-kun and I are really meant for each other! Please, just let go of Shin-kun! If you want someone to punish, do it to me! I am willing to bear it for the both of us!"

Shiori blinked a few times before she pressed one hand to her heart and burst out laughing. "Oh my god, so cheesy people like you really do exist! Oi, you," Shiori crouched down so the two of them were at eye level, and grabbed her chin so the woman was looking directly at Shiki. "Look at that pathetic man. He's thinking, right this moment, what would be the most preferable method to die with as little pain as possible. Does he look like he wants anything to do with you anymore, darling? It's because of you he's going to face a world of hell now. You think you're in some kind of TV drama and he'll give up everything to save you, sweetheart? A word of advice, darling: you could at least do yourself a favor and get to know a man's name before you sleep with him. Maybe then you'll think twice before making out with the only son of the Takahata Enterprises." She flung the woman's chin away distastefully. "Now, leave, darling. You've begun to bore me."

"B-but my IDs-"

A frosty glare quick shut her up, and she gathered her clothes and dashed out of the room.

Shiori plucked the ID cards from the dresser, browsing through them uninterestedly. "Takeda Machiko, 25, hostess slash prostitute." She read aloud enough for Shiki to hear, who was picking up his own clothes on the floor. Shiori raised an eyebrow at him. "And I thought you had taste in women."

Shiki shrugged on his shirt, grumbling. "I was drunk."

"And you decided to ditch me at the airport and pick up some random chick at some random bar."

"Might have been worth it at the moment."

"You really do want to die young, Shiki." Shiori scribbled down Takeda Machiko's info onto a memo pad for future reference. "I don't care if you sleep with the the Queen of England or Oshitari Yuushi. But I would greatly appreciate it if you could retain enough consciousness to avoid my room when you do it." She tore the note from the pad and slipped it in her handbag, turning to face Shiki. "Change my sheets and mattress. I am not sleeping in _that_ after al those colorful things you were doing in it."

Shiki went to the drawers without complaint and begun the process of exorcism.

Shiori flopped down onto an armchair, examining her perfect nails. "I have a performance scheduled tomorrow. Come watch me. You don't have anything better to do anyway. By the way, did you give Keigo my love letter?"

Shiki tossed away the old sheets. "He was beyond thrilled. Don't think he's coming."

"Forgot to save him a ticket anyway." Shiori chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "Ne, Shiki, what kind of women do men these days prefer?"

"Women that aren't you."

A boot came flying at his head, which he expertly dodged. Shiki straightened exasperated. "Why do you want to know anyway? You just want me to say you can woo any kind of men."

She looked smug. "Exactly."

It was at times like these when Shiki doubted they came from the same species, let alone the same egg.

Peering at his sister through his eyelashes, he wondered how two people coming out of the same egg could turn out to be so different.

She had zero brain cells and zero common sense. Her grades were always less than a quarter of his. All that silly woman could do was skate and flirt. All she had was her body.

Yet, why did people always look for Shiori before him? It wasn't because he was born an hour late. He wasn't bad-looking, and he did so many things to garner attention.

But in the end, it's always beautiful Shiori, talented Shiori, skating Shiori, amazing Shiori, baka Shiori.

 _Baka Shiori._

* * *

A/N: Hopefully, that might have answered some of your questions :) If not, PM me. Oh, and by the way, do you see that amazing little button down there that says 'Review'? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. Honestly, if you don't review, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO FREAKING WRITE OR WHO TO WRITE FOR.


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